


hold on dear, don't open the box

by lumos_max



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Gen, Introspection, M/M, Minor Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard, Panic Attacks, Repression, Slight Character Study, Therapy, Trauma Recovery, but andrew loves to think about him, discussions of control, emotional awareness & regulation, neil's not actually present here, vague mentions of andrew's past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-05-02 13:47:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19200100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lumos_max/pseuds/lumos_max
Summary: Controlling everything was second nature to Andrew, an automatic reflex akin to his performance on the court. His body knew how to do it, so did his mind, and the group they made were a force of nature. Shutting down his responses to the outside world so nothing could seep its way in through an open wound. If he was in control, nothing had the power to shock him, to leave him vulnerable. He knew the dark depths of humanity and their actions, the depravity. And if he could use it to his advantage to control his environment and protect his family, he would.The termmonsterthat the upperclassman love to refer to him by had not surprised him in the slightest. He was filled with monsters, it only made sense that he was branded by them.





	hold on dear, don't open the box

**Author's Note:**

> i forgot how draining therapy was after a while, so i wrote some bee and andrew to soothe myself. writing based on my own mental health and experiences with therapy. this is edited and original post on tumblr is [**here**](https://quidditchfrogs.tumblr.com/post/185540835002/hold-on-dear-dont-open-the-box)
> 
> enjoy, let me know what you think! x

His body and his brain were already wishing for a cigarette. To feel the harsh sting of tobacco down his throat, to fill up his lungs with the heaviness of poison, taking his mind off the poison within him.

Andrew wished for a lot of things, things he thought he’d successfully trapped down into the  _do not open_  box he’d created in his mind. But his sessions with Bee always brought them back up regardless of what he wanted. She would say that was a good thing, that he was feeling at all. But for Andrew, feeling had always come with a storm of devastation, of expectation and disappointment. Of pain.

Bee would say that was a good thing too.

She’s silent as she considers him opposite her, tapping her pen in a rhythm that would be annoying to others. She knew him without having to speak a word, preferring to give him mental space to process for the time being.

He sits in silence, body tense like a strung wire, ready to snap in half at any moment.

_Tap tap tap. Tap tap tap._

Betsy makes noise as she breathes out slowly and Andrew knows he’s not ready.

“So I’d take it that today may be a flat day for you, Andrew?” Bee asks softly.

Andrew stares at her blankly and Bee just nods to herself, looking down at her lap for a moment at her notes. She seems to ponder over her next question, giving him time to process.

“Is there anything you’d specifically like to talk about today?” Bee asks again. She peers at him from behind her glasses, soft and expressive and Andrew looks away from her, focusing on the figurines she loves to display, the ones he gave her. Bee remains quiet, waiting for him.

Andrew steadies himself with the reminder that he knows Bee, knew she wouldn’t hurt him. That it was okay to talk, to bare his poison with her.

“I just feel…” Andrew spits out with clenched teeth, fists curling on his thighs as he thinks of how to describe where his brain was at.

Bee hums patiently as she taps her pen again rhythmically, soothing Andrew slightly.

Andrew suddenly wishes he were anywhere else, he wants to avoid this, but he also knew that he couldn’t. That he shouldn’t. Him and Bee have been working on vocalizing and acknowledging his emotions, bringing them into the open space of the room where they could dissect and shift the pattern of his thoughts and behaviour.

It was slow moving but Andrew could acknowledge that he wasn’t completely against it. It was just easier to be. Especially after knowing what letting himself feel cost him.

Repressing had become default for him, a welcoming safety net to the unknown, to the pain of being known. He didn’t want to be known. He wanted… he didn’t know what he wanted. But it wasn’t this.

“I’m tired, Bee.” Andrew decided to say. It was all his mouth could think to give without swallowing up his entire body.

Bee continues to look at him, her pen taps paused for the moment. “Do you think you could elaborate a bit on that for me, Andrew?”

Playing with a loose thread from a rip in his jeans, he shrugs and admits, “Things- aren’t easy at the moment.”

It feels like everything from the box inside his mind, stamped with the sign  _‘do not open’_ wants to come tumbling out with no regard.

Bee smiles at him then, a quick fleeting thing and uncrosses her legs to place her left leg over her knee. “That must be hard for you, but I’m glad that you’re vocalizing that and sharing with me.” She inclines her head at him and asks, “Would you be able to give me a couple words to summarize your emotional state at this moment? The first words that come to mind perhaps?”

Andrew gazes at her, bombarded with the box slowly spilling out things he’d prefer not to hear light of day. “Hollow, ” Andrew says blankly, fighting to keep a lid on himself before too much spills and his brain shuts down in defense.

“Frustration,” Andrew continues, voice studiously monotone. Bee nods along and just watches him.

“I feel… itchy.” he finishes, locking up the rest inside.  _stay, stay, stay, don’t leave the box._

Bee is silent for a moment, taking his words in before speaking. “And I want to let you know again, that what you’re feeling, Andrew, is completely normal. This is a safe space for you to talk about these things, and I’m here to help you in any way I can.” Bee liked to repeat things like that and Andrew, he knows she’s being genuine, and that made it easier for him to sit with her and not lash out.

“I’d like to explore what you said, about your current feelings of hollowness and frustration, but firstly, can I ask why you feel itchy? What does that feel like?” her voice remains neutral and Andrew has to remind himself that it’s okay.

“I feel on edge... _restless._ Like the clock is ticking and something bad is going to happen. That if I’m not prepared-” Andrew cuts himself off suddenly and looks down for a moment to regroup. When he looks back up, his eyes meet Bee’s and she gives him an encouraging look.

His words have dried up though, that was all. Bee seems to sense that he won’t continue for the moment. She purses her lips and takes on a thoughtful look.

She lets out a hmm before quietly asking him, “When you say that something bad is going to happen, are you referring to yourself or someone else?”

Andrew feels a sharp pang in his chest, he wants to erase this entire conversation from the start. It was a valid question though, with the amount of shit Kevin and Neil, and the Foxes by extension, seem to string along with them, there was always something that he had to be prepared about. But this time that wasn’t it. It was himself he was dealing with and so he said so. “Myself.”

Bee remains a comfortable but probing presence, sitting across from him with more patience than he deserves. “Okay, and how do you believe you would feel if something bad were to happen to you?” she asks.

Andrew wants to say that he wouldn’t. Feel. That he would be prepared. That he was prepared. He had to be. He couldn’t face his life if he wasn’t.

Bee see's that he has no answer for her, as she turns her words around and asks him another question.

“You being prepared. Is that to prevent the possible intensity of your emotions, or to control yourself to not feel them in the first place?”

Andrew feels like shutting down, craves to curl up within himself but he stills his body to stay still. Perhaps Bee could sense him, as she says, “It’s an important distinction, Andrew.”

And so it was.

Controlling everything was second nature to Andrew, an automatic reflex akin to his performance on the court. His body knew how to do it, so did his mind, and the group they made were a force of nature. Shutting down his responses to the outside world so nothing could seep its way in through an open wound. If he was in control, nothing had the power to shock him, to leave him vulnerable. He knew the dark depths of humanity and their actions, the depravity. And if he could use it to his advantage to control his environment and protect his family, he would.

The term  _monster_  that the upperclassman love to refer to him by had not surprised him in the slightest. He was filled with monsters, it only made sense that he was branded by them.

There’s Neil and his smart mouth, always ready to defend Andrew whenever someone calls him a monster, but Andrew couldn’t care less for the words said about him. He lives by his promises, owing nothing to no one. He had done things in his life that other people would call monstrous, but he viewed them as a battle of survival. You live or you die, there is no room for regret when you are still breathing on the other side. Whoever thought otherwise was as naive as they were stupid. They could sleep at night truly not knowing how the world works, thinking they had the right to act like they did. But Andrew knew better. That’s why he had to be prepared. There would always be something to be prepared for as long as he lived. That was the game of survival.

Neil knew that better than anyone else, unafraid and accepting of the darkness that lived inside Andrew. He had his own brand that he was very familiar with.

Neil was always on alert, a rabbit prepared with every exit in his vicinity, he used his body and words as a weapon for his safety. Emotionally, Andrew could see that Neil had carefully learnt to be open, welcoming the friendship and care of the Foxes, constantly taken by surprise at any care shown towards him. And there, Andrew was different. He didn’t want people to feel anything for him, he wanted to go unnoticed, slip by their radar and emotional desire for connection, he preferred to be unknown, impenetrable. He wanted his presence to instill fear, to ward people off trying to fuck around with what was his.

Perhaps surprisingly, even with his knives out and expressions blank and unmoving, Neil had managed to wriggle his way through Andrew’s carefully controlled life, cutting Andrew open and making all his sharp and haggard pieces known.

He was never pitying, but understanding in the face of his actions. Neil was always looking at Andrew in the way that made Andrew want to push his face away, to tell him he shouldn’t look so grateful and  _soft_  in the face of something like Andrew.

Despite how annoying Neil was, Andrew couldn’t help but sometimes feel tiny bursts of gratitude for Neil, for a man who started off as a liar and became a strong truth who stood by Andrew’s side. He’d never felt anything like it before. He never thought he ever would, had never even entertained the idea of having someone by his side, of anyone ever wanting to be. He chose quick backroom moments with Roland, hands kept far away from Andrew, a mutual release for pent up sexual frustration. Touching another person had never been so easy as it was when there was no potential for it to ever be an option for them to lay hands on him. There was nothing more to it.

Neil was something else though. Something bright and unforgiving. It was dangerous, he made Andrew want to let go of some of his control. “I want to see you lose control.” was what Neil had told him once, a long time ago.

Andrew couldn’t help but think about those words. He knew Neil didn’t mean it in the way that someone else might, Andrew down and bruised like his past. He wanted to see Andrew bothered, to show genuine emotion in the face of what was happening. Neil wanted Andrew to be real with him and he toed the line during that conversation, being a liar and a bother, wanting Andrew to show his anger, and teased him that this was what Andrew got for telling him to stay.

And Andrew, he held control as a constant in his life, making up for all that was taken from him by force. Maybe he was too controlling now, in areas he didn't need to be, but knowing that the alternative could always be worse made him tighten his reins further.

Him and Bee were working on it. Though it was a slow process with even slower progress, one his brain fought against him every step of the way; but he never did anything he didn’t want to do. 

“Andrew.” Bee says, concern coloring her voice.

Andrew snaps out of his thoughts and remembers that she had asked him a question. He takes a quick glance at the clock and he feels heavy. Quite some time had passed while he’d been inside his own head.

He focuses on Bee to see her as patient as ever, although she’s leant forward towards him now, intrigued.

“Can you tell me where you went, Andrew?” Bee asks.

Andrew opens his mouth, feeling like he could speak. “I was thinking about your question… and I was thinking about Neil.” He adds belatedly, heart skipping up a bit. 

Bee’s eyes are steady on him. “And what conclusion did you come to?”

Andrew takes a moment he doesn’t need, he’s spent enough time thinking about it. “Both, to answer your question.” Andrew glances off to the side, not wanting to watch Bee watch him. “It’s different with him… with Neil.”

“Go on.” Bee says.

Andrew feels like he’s on the edge of the roof, being pushed off and he’s falling, not knowing what comes next. “I. I let go sometimes, just a bit. I let him touch my hands, I let him put his hands in my hair. Sometimes I don’t leave the room when I get off…” Andrew trails off, lost in thought and looks back to face Bee. “I trust him. I trust him to let me have control. But also. I trust that he knows how to control himself around me. He stops when I ask. He even stops when I don’t say anything.“

His voice feels rough, emotions kept near to him are welling up, expanding through his chest up to his throat, exposing themselves on his tongue. It feels freeing. It also feels disastrous.

Bee is glowing, her smile now big, pulling across her face and highlighting her dimples. “Andrew, I’m so very glad you shared that, I’m very happy for you, that you feel that you can trust Neil. I know it hasn’t come easy, but I’m proud of you for acknowledging all that you’re feeling.” she said, and Andrew feels a tiny curl of warmth for her candidness. 

Andrew feels like he could continue for the moment, with Bee waiting patiently across from him. But he still takes his time now to form his words, though he knows Bee won’t judge him for the shortness of them.

“About what you asked me earlier, I still- I still feel like I have to be prepared- to feel - it's easier- I thought I’d- that I had a handle on-” Andrew exhales harshly, curling his fists again.

“I don’t want to be taken by surprise. I don’t… I don’t want to be  _hurt._ ” Andrew hisses out the last word, it seemed to get caught in his throat, wants to be pushed far down where he can’t reach.

Andrew suddenly feels all energy escape him, leaving him drained and tired. After years of suppression he doesn’t feel relieved right now. He wants to burrow under the covers in his dorm with the door locked and sleep away his exhaustion. He wants a cigarette, he needs the taste of smoke to get rid of the taste of truth on his tongue.

Bee, like a beacon of light, was still smiling.

“You know Andrew,” Bee starts, looking at him fondly but seriously. “When I first met you, things were very much different. You may not think so, but you’ve made so many positive leaps to get you where you are today and you’re determined to live your life the way you want to.”

She looks at him pensively for a moment before continuing. “We have a lot to continue working through, but I’ll tell you this. Letting yourself feel can be beautiful, but it also opens up a lot of un-beautiful things too, as we know. Try not to beat yourself up for any of this, you’ve grown to be more aware of the emotions that pass through, which I’m very pleased with. You deserve to acknowledge what you feel, and no one can ever take that away from you, not even yourself, as much as you may try.”

Bee’s gaze was fierce and sincere and Andrew, fuck, his hands were starting to shake. He wants to leave, to be done. He doesn’t want to deal with this. His breathing speeds up and he brings his legs up, wrapping his arms around them. Andrew closes his eyes and focuses on breathing in and out, in and out.

Bee remains, silent and strong like a statue, sharing her support with her silence.

Andrew counts to 10 as he tries to regulate his breathing. 7-inhale, 8-exhale. Slowly he feels himself coming back, and he’s acknowledging that he’s definitely overwhelmed, that he’s angry at himself for being triggered by nothing, that he’s tired. Bone deep.

He slowly opens his eyes as his panic subsides and turns to gaze up at the ceiling for a minute, looping his eyes around the marks and swirls and indentations from the cracks in the wood.

When he feels more like himself, he meets Bee, who is patiently waiting for him like she has always done.

Andrew swallows and clears his throat. “Okay.”

“Okay.” Bee repeats, eyes warm and knowing..

Andrew takes comfort in the subsequent silence, waiting for Bee to finish up and finally end their session for the day. He's spent too long in his head, time spinning by fast without him noticing.

It doesn’t take her long. “I’m glad you came in today, you’ve given us some things to further explore in our next session, Andrew. As you know, our times up for today, but don’t hesitate to contact me in between now and our next session if you need to. Now I want to make sure, is there anything you feel you need to speak about before we finish today?” She asks in concern, and after the show he just gave her, Andrew isn't surprised. 

Andrew shakes his head no, which seems to satisfy Bee after a moment since she begins to stand up, pen and notes in hand. She open's the door for him before stepping back into the room, leaving enough space for him to pass by her without them accidentally touching.

Bee flashes him a small smile once he’s stood outside the door facing her, dimples peeking out. “Take care of yourself, Andrew. Till next time.”

Andrew doesn’t wait to watch the door close, he walks fast till he’s outside the building and leans against the door of his car, fumbling inside the pocket of his hoodie for his pack of cigarettes. He lights one up and takes a deep drag, inhaling the stale taste of tobacco. Immediately his body begins to unwind, tension easing as he focuses on taking deep inhales of nicotine.

All to be repeated next Wednesday at noon, like clockwork. He’ll have enough time to recharge by then before his next session, but right now he's looking forward to heading back home. Perhaps up to the roof to smoke his way through the rest of the pack in his hands. 

By the time Andrew is halfway through his second cigarette, his phone beeps with a notification. Andrew flicks excess ash off the butt of his cigarette as he feels in his pocket for his phone with his free hand. Flipping his phone open, he sees he has one new message. From Neil.

**hey, when will u be coming back? just prac with kevin right now**

Before Andrew could even think to reply, another message appears on the screen.

**miss u :)**

Andrew’s brows furrow as he reads the messages from Neil. Perhaps he could convince Neil to ditch Kevin and join him up on the roof. Andrew didn't feel much up to talking but he knew he wanted Neil beside him.

Feeling warm all over, Andrew drops his unfinished cigarette onto the ground and opens up the door to his car, suddenly keen to get back to the foxhole court.


End file.
